


SpinDizzy

by dramady, edonyx



Series: Smile Pretty for the Devil [3]
Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-02
Updated: 2010-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-05 16:09:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramady/pseuds/dramady, https://archiveofourown.org/users/edonyx/pseuds/edonyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What hurts more? Words or a slap?  (Mild consensual violence, referred to briefly.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	SpinDizzy

It happens most when they're in public, at an appearance or doing a performance. Adam touches him and his skin feels hot, or he says something in Tommy's ear, sending shivers down his back. In private, they grab and snatch at clothing and hair and kisses, and then Tommy makes his biggest mistake. After, still gasping, his hands in Adam's hair and his own come slick between them, he whispers, "I'm not gay. I'm _not._"

It's like a slap, Adam's chest tight and before he even can think (_caught up in the moment_), he brings a hand back and smacks it over Tommy's mouth. "Fuck you. You just take it up the ass and beg for it." His muscles are still shaking, but he pushes himself off and away, fucking condom still on, scratches from Tommy's nails on his back and fucking Tommy says that.

Tommy jerks back against the pillow, a hand to his mouth, and then he's getting to his feet, too. It's only been a couple of weeks, okay? And he still doesn't know what to do with what _they're_ doing. "You do shit to me that I don't even understand! I don't even _think_ about it because I _can't._ You fucking call me 'glitterbaby' on Twitter and I try and joke back so people don't _freak out_. I'm freaking out! What the _fuck_ are you hitting me for!" A sock will have to do to clean up, and then Tommy's yanking his t-shirt back on, looking around for his jeans. "I can't be gay just because of you, you know. I can't just change everything I've always been because of _you._"

Seriously? Seriously. Before Tommy can find his jeans, Adam, still naked, has him by the elbow to yank him around, up against his body. "Say that again and say it to my face. Tell me you don't want what you have with me. Tell me that and maybe I'll believe you. _Glitterbaby_." The word hissed through clenched teeth.

"I never said that," Tommy hisses back, venomous. "I just said I wasn't about to be all 'what the fuck, I'm gay!' because of it." He doesn't pull back and he doesn't look away, eyes dark and hot, jaw squared, the print of Adam's fingers stark across his mouth. He shouldn't be snarking back like this, no way, Adam could point a finger and have Tommy kicked out of the band, and that would probably be the shittiest thing he could think of. Because, for all his denials, there's something there between them that Tommy can't ignore. He works on his words for a second, trying to find something to come back with, but instead, he just looks down, jaw tight and face tense.

"You're a fucking liar. Which is ... shitty," Adam mutters. "But what's _worse_ is that you're lying to yourself, which I ... I can't even stand." Without moving his arms, Tommy can see Adam throw up his hands. "I have worked _so hard_ to be comfortable with who I am and you come into my life and fucking say that, so you know what? Fuck you. Fuck _you_. Get out of my house."

With that, Adam lets Tommy go and steps back. He doesn't bother reaching for his clothes that are strewn all over the floor, but for the robe on the back of the bathroom door. As he stalks out, into the hall, toward the stairs, he wraps it around himself. He's so furious he can feel the rise of his blood pressure.

Tommy grabs his jeans and yanks them on, leaving his shorts and both of his socks on the floor, and he waits until Adam's downstairs before going down, shoving his feet into his boots, looking for where he'd flung his hoodie when they'd gotten here. "You might have worked hard to be comfortable with who you are, but that doesn't mean I'm comfortable with who _I_ am, especially when you come into _my_ life and fuck _everything_ up. See you at fucking practice tomorrow." Fuck his hoodie. He'll walk to the train and take it home. Fuck all of this. Then... he realizes that there _aren't_ any trains out here. _Fuck._

"_I_ fucked everything up?! Are you even fucking serious?!" Adam's face is a picture of disbelief as he appears in the entry to the kitchen. "You - you fucking come to me and you tell me that I can touch you and fucking do whatever I want to you and you tell me I fuck up your life. You know what? That's -- that's priceless. That's abso-fucking-lutely priceless. You are such a fucking _baby!_ I can't even believe it!"

"_I'm_ a fucking baby?" Tommy's face is red again, not from embarrassment or _want_, but with anger. "Before I met you, I knew everything about myself. I knew I was comfortable with a lot of shit. That's why I said that. _You're_ the one that kissed me on national TV. You're the one that fucking took me back to that club when you _knew_ it was a sex club. What the _fuck_, Adam Lambert!" There's his hoodie! His iPod's in the pocket, and no matter how far he's going to have to walk tonight, at least he'll have music. "Guess what? You've been fucking guys for the last six years. I've been getting fucked by _one_ guy for the last two weeks. Let's check our comfort levels, huh? Yours versus mine." He stands near the door, ready to walk out if Adam gets any more fucking Diva.

Really, Adam just can't even believe what he's hearing. There is a _reason_ gays don't fuck with straights and here it is in living, breathing 3-D. It's good he's not holding anything because it would be thrown against a wall right about now, before he stalks over, right into Tommy's personal space. "Are you trying to tell me that I forced myself on you? Is this what you're trying to tell me? Really. You tell me to touch you. You tell me fucking _yes_. And now how your story has changed. _Amazing_. The levels of delusion here are off the fucking _charts_." And then he shouts, face flushed. "_Get the fuck out of my house, you coward!_"

That's _not_ how it is! Tommy said anything not expecting to react to Adam the way he did. He had _no idea_ that a kiss would feel like that, or that Adam's hand clamped down on the back of his neck makes him want to go limp like a fucking kitten in the jaws of a lion or some Animal Planet shit like that. He had no idea that when Adam exerted his sexuality, no one would be able to resist. Not even Tommy Joe Ratliff. He shoves Adam back a step, then another one, and a third to make Adam bump up against the wall. "Fuck you, I'm no coward. You _know_ it." His hands shake as he wrenches the knot open on Adam's robe. "I'm not a fucking coward." Muttered now, attention turned downward and away from the way Tommy drops to his knees on the hard floor. "Yes, then. Fucker." And whether Adam's hard, half-hard, barely hard at all, Tommy closes his mouth around his cock.

"_Fuck!_" Adam's head, elbows and heels smack against the wall and it takes him a second to even figure out what's happening. He fists a hand in Tommy's hair, though and pulls his head back. "... what are you doing?!" He can't even - they just fucked not fifteen minutes ago and then with all the yelling and the rage, his stomach's all in knots, face contorted, eyes stormy. "Tommy - what the fuck-?"

"You called me a coward," Tommy growls, trying to twist out of Adam's grip. "You called me a fuckin' coward, and I was proving to you that I'm not, and you _stop_ me." If Adam had let him, he'd still be scared as hell, but he'd be _doing_ it. "Let go of my hair. You wanted me to fucking leave and you obviously don't want _that._" He gestures at Adam's open robe. "Let me the fuck go."

"You - I just -- you tell me you're not gay then you try to suck my dick? What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Adam does indeed let go of Tommy's hair, only to grab his wrist again and pull him up, grip tight enough that he's not going _anywhere_. "Quit fucking telling me what I want and don't want, feel and don't feel and fucking figure that out for yourself! I am not going to let you jack me around anymore."

Tommy pulls against Adam's grip, his own hands balled into fists. "Do you have any idea what this is like? No? Yeah, because you've been gay your entire life, right? Guess what. _You're my first_ and I don't know what the fuck to do with any of it. I'm not gay because I'm _not._ Because chicks are _awesome_, and then there's-" There's only been Adam, and Tommy wrenches his wrist again. "There's this thing we're doing that I don't know how to deal with, okay? It might be easy for you, but it isn't for me."

"Nothing worth anything is easy." And with that, Adam feels almost like he's deflating, the rage whooshing away, leaving him empty and aching. He lets Tommy go and turns away, doing up his robe again. "I don't want to see you until you've figured out how to deal with it, whatever way you want to, I don't even care anymore. Just ... get out and don't come back until you've fucking made up your mind one way or the other."

Tommy stands there for a second, staring at Adam's back in disbelief. _Get out and don't come back._ Yeah, he knows he hasn't been dealing with all of this in the finest, most mature ways, but it's _hard_, okay? There's an instinctive, base _want_ that comes from being around Adam, but it's so vastly different from how he's used to being attracted to women that it comes in flashes of thought and non-thought. Adam turns him on at the same time that he shuts Tommy off, too. "Come on, babyboy," he says, and his voice is shaking now, too. It's his retaliation to being called glitterbaby, and it's maybe worth a try. Fuck, five minutes ago, he was ready to storm the castle! Rape the horses! Ride away on the women! and now he can't stand the look of the door. "I'm fucking scared, okay? I'm scared."

"And you think I'm not?" Adam doesn't fully turn around; his chin is on his shoulder, eyes slanted to watch Tommy from the corner of them. "You don't ever say what you said to me again." And even if his jaw is thrust out, it's not as firm as it could be. Fucking Tommy Ratliff. How dare he come in, be Adam's type, quote movies and offer himself up on a platter, only to take it all back with three words: _I'm not gay._

"You've _done_ this before. I've _pretended._ It freaks me out that I can't pretend around you. It fucks me _up._" He shoves his bangs behind his ear because they're kind of not quite long enough to stay in place, and too long to hang in his eyes. "What'll you do, smack me again?" Where Adam can see, Tommy lifts his fingers to touch the red mark on his face. "What do you want this to be?"

"I've done it twice; I'm not a whore, you know." Adam rolls his eyes, turning halfway around, his arms crossed over his chest. "I don't ... you seem to think I have all the answers, and I don't. I didn't mean to hit you in the first place except you have no sense of timing. You don't tell someone that when you've still got their cock in your ass, which is _pretty much_ the gayest position you could possibly be in." With that, he looks over, chin up. "What do you want from me, Tommy?"

"Don't quote your songs, man. It just makes you look cheesy." Tommy pulls his hands into his sleeves before sticking them under his arms. "I'm sorry. I know I have shitty timing. For the record, twice is still two more times than me, and there's _no way_ you've only ever been with two guys, so don't even bullshit me on that." With a stubborn sigh, he looks away from Adam. "Please don't make me go." He doesn't know what he wants from Adam, but he can't go knowing that Adam's genuinely pissed at him. "And fuck you and your gay positions. It doesn't feel gay when you're doing it."

"You talk ... you talk _so much_ and you don't say _anything_, Tommy. Fuck." Running a hand through his hair, Adam turns away again, back to the kitchen. The water he'd put on for tea has been boiling for a long time now; thankfully, it's not all boiled away. He pours it into his mug, leaning against the counter as he waits for it to steep.

The words condensed are too intense to say when Adam's right there, so when Tommy hears him moving around in the kitchen, he raises his voice. It's okay, Adam's not looking at him. "I don't know how to be with a guy and you make me want that. And I don't know how to deal with wanting it. I want you to fuck me, okay? I want you to do things to me that I've only ever joked about 'cause they freak me out. I..." What were Adam's words? "I wanna be your excess."

"Then what?" Adam asks, tossing his tea bag into the sink to drain. "We do whatever kinky thing you want to do and you freak out on me again. No. I'm not playing that game anymore. I'm out. You can say whatever you want about me in whatever twisted version of reality you have going on in your head, but I haven't played you and I haven't lied to you. But you've done those things to me."

Tommy's tone is utterly monotone in the fear of what his words might mean. "No game. I want you to show me how. Just between you and me, okay? No running. No freaking out. If I need to make a fuckin' decision about what I am or what I'm gonna be, then this is it." He doesn't realize he's backing up until his heels hit the door. "I'm sorry. You've gotta show me how to do this." His heart is running like a jackrabbit in his chest, mouth dry and stomach clenched up with adrenaline. There, he said it. "I'm not gay 'cause I don't want guys. I want you. The end."

Between the clunk of the heels of Tommy's boots against the door and the words he says, Adam stands there like an idiot before he makes himself set down his tea and walk, one foot at a time, into the living room. In a cotton robe, his face nearly devoid of make up, hair mussed, he crosses his arms over his chest and he looks over at Tommy. "Are you sure? I swear to God, Tommy, if you're fucking with me, I can throw a really mean punch and mean it."

In any other situation, the visual would be kind of hilarious, but this isn't any other situation, this is _serious_, and Tommy swallows before nodding, very deliberately. "You already smacked me, I know how fuckin' hard you can hit. Ouch, by the way. Thanks for that." Pause, then his tone changes, gaze sliding away again. "Thank you." Yeah, he's been reading. _Yes_, he knows how to read! He just... doesn't spell very well. _Thank you, may I have another?_ But Tommy's not about to ask that, because that's kind of fucked.

Oh, _come on_. Seriously? Seriously. "I should hate you," Adam mutters. Of course in that little revelation, Tommy didn't actually _say_ he was sure, because he's a fucking master at bullshit, apparently. After a moment spent doing nothing (because movement means action, which denotes a decision), Adam fists his hand in Tommy's shirt and jerks him away from the door and toward the stairs, pulling the (much) smaller man along behind him, his tea forgotten.

When they're back in the bedroom, the door shut and locked behind them, Adam lets Tommy go with enough oomph behind it that Tommy staggers some. "Is that what you want?" Adam asks, jaw tight. "You want someone to knock you around some? Does that make being gay that much easier to swallow? Oh, sorry. Gay for _me_, not gay-gay." Because, there's a difference, apparently.

There's a huge difference, in Tommy's head. Because being gay means liking _guys_, and all of his senses have been swamped with everything that Adam is, everything he does, says, looks, touches, even the way he sounds. Especially when he talks in Tommy's ear, or when he's being sharp and hard, like this. "Just you," he clarifies, steadying himself on his feet. "I like being knocked around, fuck off." He raises his eyes, sullen and dark, and looks at Adam. "By you." Is that clear enough?

"You're a dirty bitch." Adam says that all low and deep, his eyes nearly all pupil. "Say your safeword." So Adam knows he can. Fuck, he can feel the stirrings of heat in his hips. "And take your clothes off. All of them."

"Rickenbacker," Tommy mutters between his teeth, stripping his t-shirt off and dropping it to the floor. _Dirty bitch._ It makes his skin rise in goosebumps and he rubs his arms with his palms before starting on his pants, unbuttoned, unzipped, undressed, and after he toes out of his boots, his jeans are kicked aside, too. In a matter of a few panted breaths as he stands there exposed, Tommy feels the chill on his skin turn to heat, directed over his skin by the way Adam's looking at him. It's hard to pair these two sides together, public-Adam and private-Adam, but the hints of it that show up in public are fully-blown now. He ducks his head to look down at the floor. "Good?"

Adam's answer to that question is a nod. Good. "I won't hit you to permanently damage," he says, walking over in slow, measured strides. "There are places you don't hit." His hand spans Tommy's stomach, sliding around to his lower back, the kidney area. "But there are other places." Up, over his shoulders, his other hand skimming over Tommy's ass and thighs. "Don't move." That said, he walks over to his dresser, pulling out a drawer and rifling through it. "I'm tempted to gag you," he notes as he finally finds what he's looking for, pulling out a cock ring and a ball gag, holding them both up as he turns. "If I gag you, you get a bell to safeword." And he pretends to ponder this, watching for reactions on Tommy's face.

"I can deal with a black eye or a split lip," Tommy shrugs. Wait, does that count as moving? It shouldn't, and if Adam counts it, then Tommy... probably won't do anything. His eyes raise to what Adam has in his hands. "You kept that stuff? I thought you just..." He shakes his head. His breathing speeds up under Adam's touch, and his fingers curl into loose fists. "A bell. That's fair." His groin feels tight and hot, more from the idea of the ring - and Christ, he thought Adam only used them as a fashion statement or something - than from the gag. But the idea of not being able to say no in so many words appeals to Tommy, and he hopes Adam gets that. That Tommy's willing to have that privilege taken away.

Getting it more from the curve of Tommy's shoulders, Adam stands behind him. "Open," and reaches around, setting the ball between Tommy's teeth. Then the strap is snapped behind his head. Lower, then, his fingers teasing up Tommy's half-hard cock as he slips the ring on, getting it settled right at the base before he strokes Tommy fully hard. There might be a hint of a smirk on his face as he goes back to the drawer, coming back with a very simple silver bell that he presses into Tommy's hand, curling his fingers around it. "You ring that, we stop. No questions, no problems. And I'm not going to give you a black eye or split your lip. You're too pretty."

Pretty isn't a word he's ever thought about in regards to himself. Sure, there's the eyeliner and the bleached hair, the clothes, the- Okay. But there's a ball between his teeth and it makes him want to gag, just a little bit, and he pokes his tongue against the back side of the ball. Tommy closes his eyes, feeling the vague throb of the ring around the base of his cock, and he wonders again where Adam gets this stuff, and how he knows how to use it. Then he opens his eyes, looking for Adam, for guidance, for Adam's attention as he very deliberately lets the bell drop from his fingers. So there.

So there, indeed. But see, safe, sane and consensual were things that Adam had learned are important. No safeword is a whole different game. Adam bends down again and picks up the bell, holding it out. "You have to be able to tell me no." His hand is warm around Tommy's. "Those are the rules."

It's strange watching the different facets of Adam's personality come together into this, Adam who's careful and warm, Adam who's hard and demanding, Adam who's sexy as fuck, overtop of all of that. Tommy takes the bell back, careful not to ring it, and looks Adam in the eyes when he nods. Yes, he understands, there has to be a chance to be able to say no, but if Tommy's trying to prove his point to Adam, then he's not going to need to say anything. The ball in his mouth makes it just a little hard to breathe, and even harder to swallow, and he glances at the bed, then back to Adam, waiting for his direction. It wasn't _that_ long ago that Adam had shouted at the top of his lungs for Tommy to get the fuck out of his house.

No, it wasn't. And Adam can still feel the taint of the argument on his skin. He touches Tommy's face, fingertips skating over his skin as he just _looks_ at him for a minute. Maybe Tommy can see him searching around in himself for what this scene needs, to push away the bad stuff. He brushes his thumb along Tommy's lower lip then pulls his hand away. There's a flash of an instant, then his hand smacks _loudly_ across Tommy's cheek.

It sends Tommy reeling on his feet with surprise, not expecting something that sharp, that fast, and for it to _hurt_ as much as it does. The heat that surges up in its wake makes him dizzy, and once his balance is steady, he nods at Adam. _Thank you._ His cock feels heavy now, flush with blood, with want, with anticipation, and behind that, the grip of the ring. Tommy wonders if it had been a bracelet at one point, like that glove-thing Adam has now, and presses his tongue to the back of the ball as if wanting to dampen his lips.

"Good." The skin on his cheek is bright stained red and Adam cups his cheek as he leans forward, kissing the heated flesh gently. He steps back again, eyes skating down Tommy's body, lingering on his cock before he shrugs off his robe and lets it fall to the floor, walking slowly until he stands behind him. A black-manicured nail trails down Tommy's spine, tickling right at the base before the touch disappears. There's a moment of nothing, then the whoosh of air and the smack of Adam's hand flat on the boy's ass.

There isn't a proper descriptor for the sound that Tommy makes, muffled by the gag but sharp and loud anyway. A sound of surprise, and he's up on his toes without even realizing it. Again, there's that sensation of rushing heat being filled with something else, something dark and deserved, and when Tommy's heels come down against the floor, it's with a groan. Stings and burns that wrap long-fingered flares around his spine and down, down, into his hips and _tight_ around his cock.

"Good," Adam coos into his ear, the breath of the word over the shell. Standing right there, close, Tommy can feel the jut of Adam's erection against his hip. Adam splays his hand over Tommy's heart, not moving away as he raises his other hand again. This time he doesn't stop at just one, but keeps going, sharp slaps that build on one another until even he thinks he can feel the heat and the burn.

Okay. Adam wants this. Adam wants to do this. The ball tastes like not much of anything, rubber and smooth and it's beginning to make Tommy's jaw cramp up a little. Under Adam's other hand, Tommy's heart is beating, not fast, but steady, the run of adrenaline in his veins steadying him instead of making him want to _run_, instead. Each sharp moment of contact of Adam's hand to Tommy's skin means a little noise, a twitch, a flutter of lashes. He doesn't dare touch Adam yet, even though his fingertips remember the feel of Adam's hair between them, and the feel of his skin under Tommy's nails. Fuck. He's got pink welts all over his body, all of them shaped like Adam's hand or his fingers; marks that'll be gone by tomorrow from his body, but not from his memory.

By the time he's pushed onto his elbows and knees on the bed, Tommy's ass is a bright red, and Adam scrapes his nails up his thighs to create red lines to go with it. He kneels behind Tommy, fingering his hole that's still slick from before. "I'm not going to let you come," he tells Tommy, a smirk in his words. "If you're good, I'll let you come later." Tommy wants choices taken away? Adam can do that and in doing that, keep Tommy close, close, closer.

The bob of Tommy's head says that he's okay with Adam's decision, with Adam's treatment, and he creaks out a sound behind the gag under the bite of Adam's nails. _Do you like when I scratch you?_ he wants to ask, but can't. _I can't help it, I can't stop it._ Just like he can't stop what Adam's doing right now. He doesn't _want_ to, because as easily as Adam strips away all of Tommy's control, this is peeling it down to a new level, leaving Tommy helpless, stinging, hot, and stupidly, ridiculously turned on. His back arches, nearly pressing his stomach to the bed, and Tommy glances over his shoulder at Adam, gauging the expression on his face. He'll be able to come if he's good. Would Adam take the ring off, first?

They'll find out, won't they? Adam meets his gaze with an expression Tommy knows; determined, hot, but _in control_, as he fucks a finger inside him, all the way, pushing and curling it on its way out. The gesture, as well as his face, says _you're mine, whether you say it or not_. There's no mistaking it. "You look good in that," he says, upnodding toward the gag that keeps Tommy from talking. They could, he thinks, do a video with Tommy trussed up; sexy as hell, he thinks.

Tommy groans behind the gag, letting his head fall forward, the heels of his hands digging into the bed. How many times has he been here, now? How many times has he found his fingers tangled in Adam's sheets, or his hair? He wipes the side of his mouth against his shoulder because the gag feels like it's making him drool and that's kind of gross. Adam can see the line of Tommy's spine shift and arch as Adam rocks his wrist, hear the hum that comes out of his chest, almost a whine. _Thank you_, he'd say again, _again_, if he could, and even the minute brush of his cock against the sheets makes him feel hot and restless.

Two fingers, then, but not more. Tommy wants rough? Adam can give him that. He reaches over Tommy's body to get a condom and he slicks that on - it's lubed so that's all Tommy gets before Adam is pushing inside, watching his cock disappear in between ass cheeks that are nearly glowing red.

The ring feels _really_ tight now, reminding Tommy that the twitch of his cock is all he's going to get. If he doesn't touch himself, he should be okay, right? "Rrgh," he sounds, teeth bared around the ball, feeling the vague burn of Adam's cock at the same time as a higher, more intense fire under his skin from where Adam's smacked him so many times. He deserves it, he's been dicking Adam around, right? Confusion might be a good excuse, but it's not good enough. Tommy pushes back against Adam and with that movement, gets an ass full.

Adam groans, hands wrapping tight around Tommy's thin hips. Leaning back just a few degrees, he pulls Tommy down on him, eyes glued onto where they're connected and how good it feels. He hisses out a breath through clenched teeth before throwing his head back and letting himself fuck. "Shit!"

Tommy's got his eyes closed, moving with Adam as much as letting Adam move him, hearing the impact of their bodies, _feeling_ it like a thousand needles underneath his skin. His fingers shake just a little bit as he reaches back to touch the side of Adam's thigh, hoping it's something he's allowed to do because he _needs_ to touch Adam. He needs to ground himself, needs to know that Adam's maybe as heated as he is. Tommy's so focused on what Adam's doing, mastering that fine line between pleasure and pain, that the pressure of the ring is distant, and he doesn't even feel the slow leak of his cock. All he feels is _full._ And wanted.

He can perhaps guess at how many people Adam has treated like this. It isn't something that essentially will get him off. But giving his lover what he wants? That's a kink right there. Fucking, all base need and instinctual movements? That's a kink too. Adam brushes his hand over Tommy's - that's okay - and he holds him again, tight, fucking Tommy back on him, his own breathing getting tighter and faster.

When Adam pulls him back like that, Tommy lets out a muffled, hoarse noise, fingers digging into Adam's thigh, urging him. _Yes._ He's forgotten about Adam's order about not coming, because he can hear Adam's breathing, feel the urgency behind his thrusts, and it's only when Tommy realizes that he's almost there, all aching pressure and heat, that he shakes his head. Stop, stop, give him a chance to gain back some control. It'll _kill_ to come through the ring, he knows this without ever having experienced it before, but the way it sharpens in his belly tells the truth.

"You're not coming," Adam reminds him and the words come out slurred, like his tongue is too thick for his mouth. No, Tommy will come when he _begs_ to come. Hours from now, even. "But I'm gonna come in your ass." Well, in the condom at least. Reaching forward, he wraps a hand around Tommy's shoulder and _rides_ him, skin slapping against skin until he lets out a nearly grateful-sounding moan, his body shuddering with his orgasm.

By the time Adam comes, Tommy's _right there_ again, wanting to pull at the ring, wanting it _off_ so he can come, too. But Adam said no, Adam said he had to wait, and the _want_ sits in his guts like a bowling ball, heavy and dark. And fuck, the _sound_ Adam makes...

Tommy braces his weight on one hand, shuddering, the other hand moving up and down the outside of Adam's thigh. Again, he'd thank him, thank him for _this_, for teaching Tommy, for taking control when Tommy's felt lost.

After a moment, Adam pulls back, falling to his haunches, tugging off the condom and even still hissing at the sensitivity. Tommy can only hear this. Then he can feel Adam's fingers tracing circles over abused skin, knuckles down along his balls. "Are you close?"

Tommy whines, wincing away from Adam's touch, and his head jerks up and down in a nod. He's close, oh _fuck_, but please don't make him come with the ring on. He's a tough guy, little and wiry, but he thinks that if Adam made him do that, it might make him cry. He tries to say 'please' around the gag and it comes out sounding like nothing at all.

So that's why Adam unsnaps the strap for the gag and lets Tommy spit it out. "You're going to stay here. You can lay on your back or whatever you want, but you're not going to come. I'm going to go get my tea and I'll bring you some water." His fingers are gentle through Tommy's hair. "Be right back." And the weight of the bed shifts as he steps off, shrugging the robe back on before he gives Tommy one more look, then disappears, once again, into the hall.

Tommy stays just where he is, curled on his elbows and knees until the fire in his guts lets him turn onto his back with a sigh. Holy _god._ Maybe the water will help, maybe it'll make it feel less like his balls are on fire and more like Adam maybe giving him permission to come. That'd be awesome. He works his jaw, trying to get the cramps out, and just to see how it feels, strokes a hand down his cock.

It's a bad idea, and Tommy jerks his hand back up and stuffs it under Adam's pillow beneath his head. Bad Tommy, no touchee. And how the _fuck_ is he going to get the ring _off?_ Does he have to wait until after? Will Adam _make_ him come?

So many questions! None of which are answered when Adam returns, a mug of tea (reheated) in one hand, a bottle of water in the other. He sits on the bed, a leg pulled up under him as he hands over the bottle. There might even be some coyness behind his eyes as he sips his tea. There is _definitely_ some there when he asks, the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk, "how're you doing?"

"My dick hurts," Tommy croaks, looking up at the ceiling. He rests the butt of the bottle on his bare chest, glad for how cold it is. "It _aches_, actually. How do you take something like that off when, uh, everything's all squeezed in?" His cheeks are still flushed, gaze heavy and dark when he turns his eyes to Adam. "How do you know how to do all of this shit, anyway?"

"Drink the water; it's not just for holding." Adam nudges at his hand. "We have two choices for that." The ring that is. "You can come through it, or we wait for your hard-on to go away. Then we take it off and let you come without it." Another sip of tea and he addresses the other question. "I learned about this. The underground club scene is pretty intense around here."

"No shit." Tommy takes a drink of the water and it's _so_ cold, so good. "Pretty intense sounds like an understatement." He glances at Adam's face, then away; it's not as if Adam's switched back to the friendly, joking singer that the whole world knows, but it's there, hidden beneath the cool blue of his eyes and hair so black it reminds Tommy of that Spinal Tap album. "Wow, did you know that 'Smell the Glove' by Spinal Tap was supposed to have a woman on a leash on the cover? Hot. Instead... it ended up being the colour of your hair." Gay, Tommy Joe Rattliff. Watch your mouth. "Does it hurt a lot to come through it?"

Ignoring the Spinal Tap thing because, really, what the hell, Adam sets his tea aside and stretches out on the bed, head resting on his hand. Did Tommy just say it was okay to put him in a leash? Really? Really. "It hurts, yeah." And he runs his fingers along Tommy's jaw. "Do you want it to hurt? You'll never forget how it feels." And if he never forgets? He'll always remember Adam.

There's a yes there, but on one condition. "Does it feel good, too? Like, have you ever had this shit done to you? Or were you always the one that was doing it?" Without even thinking, he turns his head toward Adam's touch, the sensation of it feeling a little bit like licking a nine-volt battery, but _good._ And it's Adam's fingertips that Tommy's aiming for, catching the tip of Adam's middle finger between his lips.

A smile appears in the light turning up of Adam's mouth, his eyes on where his finger traces along Tommy's teeth. "It feels good, too. I tried it once. I haven't forgotten it. It feels ... super intense. I kind of wanted to sleep forever after I did. With a hand around my dick to protect it," he laughs out.

"Then..." Tommy nods. He wants to try it. "Okay. Like, I can deal with hurt, I said that before, that's no big deal." He finds a smile against Adam's laugh, because there's no denying it when it's there. "I wanna try that, okay?" He swallows, looking at the wall, the ceiling, the lip of his bottle when it comes up toward his mouth again. "Please."

"Now?" Adam arches a brow at him. "You want it now?" His fingers dance down Tommy's chest, over the hollow of his stomach to tickle at his pubic hair. "Are you going to stay tonight? With me?" So he can take care of Tommy, so they can be together. Even cuddle a little bit. If there's anything Tommy knows by now, it's that Adam likes to cuddle.

The softer side of Adam makes the hard side that much more compelling, that much more difficult to deny - not that Tommy's ever actually said no to Adam - and he huffs out a laugh under Adam's fingers. Fuck off, he's ticklish, alright? "If you want me to, yeah. I can stay. And, uh." He glances down at Adam's hand, so close to his cock but not quite close enough. "Now? If you want? It's... it's up to you."

"It is up to me," Adam reminds him, but really, he's not that much into deprivation. So he wraps his hand around Tommy's cock and slowly starts to stroke. Key word = slowly. The look in his eye makes clear that he wants to make Tommy feel every bit of this, so that he falls to pieces that Adam can gather back up and put back together.

Tommy doesn't look away from Adam's eyes, needing them to keep him right where he is, in Adam's bed, in Adam's hand, tight hot pleasure wrapped around his cock at the base, and he pulls a long breath, letting it out just as slow as Adam's stroke. After a couple of minutes, the pressure around him has Tommy hissing his breath, heels shuffling restlessly against the sheet. "Fuck," he spits. "_Fuck._"

That's when Adam tightens his grip like he knows Tommy likes, almost too tight, practically _pumping_ him. "C'mon," he urges leaning into breathe the words over Tommy's ear. "C'mon. Come for me, pretty. Come for me."

_It hurts_, Tommy almost says, but that's the point. He knew it would hurt, Adam _warned_ him, but at the same time, it's the most intense thing he's ever experienced. It makes his throat hurt and his eyes burn, makes his fingertips go numb. "Ah- _ah-_" When he comes, it feels almost impossible, hurting nearly as much as a kick to the junk, followed by a thunderclap of blinding pleasure. Come spatters up Tommy's stomach, between Adam's fingers, Tommy's own hands gripping the sheets as if trying to hold himself down when his body wants to arch up off the bed.

"There," Adam soothes, nuzzling Tommy's cheek with his. "There." His grip loosens, stroking Tommy's cock almost gently as he plucks off the ring and tosses it away. "There." Then he can gather the smaller man up, cuddling him to his chest. "There. You did so good. You did _so good_."

Tommy curls up on himself the moment the ring's off, but then Adam's got him, he's _got_ Tommy while he breathes and tries to stop the spinning in his head. "Holy," he gasps. "Holy _shit._ Holy god, that hurt." He turns his face against Adam's, bleach-blonde hair catching against black, and he says, just for Adam to hear, "Sorry. I'm sorry. For being like that."

"Shhh." That's for later, maybe after they've eaten and gotten high. Now is for this. This amazing moment when Tommy totally gave over to Adam and Adam was _there_ to see it and experience it. Adam pets down his back, rubbing, humming a little. "You'll always remember this now. You'll always remember this very moment."

It's like a tattoo on the part of him that Tommy keeps private. No, he'll never forget this, not one moment of it, even if right now it's foggy and hazy. It'll clear, and he'll go over every single thing that happened, every stab of sensation, every word spoken, every sound. "Tell me what you want from me." Whatever it is, whatever Adam wants; it's as if that part of Tommy that's private has realized something before his conscious mind could interject. That he wants Adam. Period.

There's a thoughtful pause before Adam answers. He rests his chin on the top of Tommy's head, still stroking his back. "I ... I want you. To be my boyfriend. We don't have to be out or whatever, but that's what I want. And I want you in my bed. And on stage with me where you know that I know that you're mine."

"I just like keeping private things private," Tommy mutters, his face tucked against Adam's neck. God, fuck, now he feels _exhausted_, stripped and drained and unable to move out of the security of Adam's hold. "I'll be whatever you want me to be." As long as Adam's got his back. That's cool. Tommy can deal with it. "And don't... I don't know. I still don't know what I'm doing." He sighs, low and slow, and Tommy closes his eyes.

"I do," Adam tells him, quietly. He kisses Tommy's forehead and settles back against the headboard. He does now, anyway. And if need be, he'll just remind Tommy of that. "It's okay, baby. I've got you."


End file.
